07-09-2018, 05:16 PM
A grasp from behind blazed the light into screaming intensity before the softness of the touch washed the anxiety away. She might have assumed Jay was only preventing her from leaving, misinterpreting weary focus as abandonment in the cold way she turned to seek out Evelyn. But it wasn't that kind of touch either. His fingers smoothed the claw of her own, the sensation magnified before she realised the gentle ripples of power made everything stronger. Warmth brushed the palm she viced for distraction until her hand relaxed, surprised.
He noticed something he wasn't supposed to.
She hadn't invited him behind the blank canvas of her gaze, but he crept past her defences with the earnest curiosity of a lost wanderer. Incidental, but such an honest connection its realisation was almost shattering. Grief rushed a torrent through that small chink, seeking recognition in the scant seconds before her chest swelled a breath and she tamped it down to stillness.
She didn't explain, at least not now. Maybe she never would. The emotions ran too tangled for a single cause, buried so deep they were just another shade of her soul. And Jay hardly needed any burden of hers to add to his own shoulders right now. "When I look at the people here, I wish I'd never left Africa."
The quiet words cut a dry smirk, a dark sliver of truth amidst the sheer flippancy. She'd been born into this world, but the fit was ill. No one had ever asked what changed her mind so suddenly about returning, not that she would have been straight with an answer anyway. She'd made her own deals with her own devils.
She almost shrugged, on the verge of brushing the moment away, only to abandon the gesture and turn back instead, attention pooled to their link of fingers and the warm heat of how close he stood. When she'd woken in the hospital he'd been gripping her hand. Not a memory forgotten exactly, but smoothed away with an easier lie; one that defined their interactions by a simple transaction of duty, and erased any small details muddying the picture. So she had no answer for the comfort he offered or the way in which it blurred the truth she told herself with the truth she felt. It left her feeling more vulnerable than she was accustom to.
A cynic's instinct urged her away, defensive, but it was precisely why her gaze tugged defiantly up instead, unsure she wanted to read his expression, or allow him the chance to read hers. She searched for sincerity she was tentative of finding, not entirely certain what she really wished to see. Questions lined her own tired gaze now the masks slipped, an edge of demand curbed by their surroundings (he had a lot of explaining to do), but a soft hint of confusion as well. She squeezed his hand before she let the connection slip away. Necessity, not desire.
"Don't be alarmed if she already knows who you are, by the way. Come on."
He noticed something he wasn't supposed to.
She hadn't invited him behind the blank canvas of her gaze, but he crept past her defences with the earnest curiosity of a lost wanderer. Incidental, but such an honest connection its realisation was almost shattering. Grief rushed a torrent through that small chink, seeking recognition in the scant seconds before her chest swelled a breath and she tamped it down to stillness.
She didn't explain, at least not now. Maybe she never would. The emotions ran too tangled for a single cause, buried so deep they were just another shade of her soul. And Jay hardly needed any burden of hers to add to his own shoulders right now. "When I look at the people here, I wish I'd never left Africa."
The quiet words cut a dry smirk, a dark sliver of truth amidst the sheer flippancy. She'd been born into this world, but the fit was ill. No one had ever asked what changed her mind so suddenly about returning, not that she would have been straight with an answer anyway. She'd made her own deals with her own devils.
She almost shrugged, on the verge of brushing the moment away, only to abandon the gesture and turn back instead, attention pooled to their link of fingers and the warm heat of how close he stood. When she'd woken in the hospital he'd been gripping her hand. Not a memory forgotten exactly, but smoothed away with an easier lie; one that defined their interactions by a simple transaction of duty, and erased any small details muddying the picture. So she had no answer for the comfort he offered or the way in which it blurred the truth she told herself with the truth she felt. It left her feeling more vulnerable than she was accustom to.
A cynic's instinct urged her away, defensive, but it was precisely why her gaze tugged defiantly up instead, unsure she wanted to read his expression, or allow him the chance to read hers. She searched for sincerity she was tentative of finding, not entirely certain what she really wished to see. Questions lined her own tired gaze now the masks slipped, an edge of demand curbed by their surroundings (he had a lot of explaining to do), but a soft hint of confusion as well. She squeezed his hand before she let the connection slip away. Necessity, not desire.
"Don't be alarmed if she already knows who you are, by the way. Come on."